Ways Rodney Felt Pain
by x Varda x
Summary: A collection of short Rodney whumping stories. Latest chapters - Void and Snow
1. You Did What!

**Title** - You Did What?!  
**Summary** - Rodney has done something drastic. He and John have a little talk... drabble (353 words), very slight angst. Set mid-late S2.

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Rodney scratched absently at his chest and then his throat at the slightly parted V of his shirt.

John glanced across at him for interrupting the movie they were watching with the distracting rustling sounds. He raised an eyebrow and then turned back to the screen.

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Rodney shrug a few times in discomfort and then rub the centre of his chest.

"Ants, McKay?"

"No no no. Nothing like that," was the reply, accompanied by more irritated scratching.

"Fleas then?" John placed his hands down on the seat and shimmied himself away from Rodney slightly.

Rodney glanced sidelong at him, one finger still poised over his blue zip up uniform shirt. "Erm, no."

John counted off options on his fingers, "Some kind of cream Carson gave you, a new allergy, a skin condition you want to spread around...?"

"I, uh..." Rodney looked away and mumbled, "I shaved it off."

John's eyes widened, "What?!"

Rodney's stuttering increased as his hands started wringing together. He carefully avoided both John's shocked expression and the movie that was now only background noise. "I- I thought... well it's my second date tonight with Katie. And, the last one wasn't so good. I thought, I'd shave off the hair, b-b-because all women like..." he trailed off as John's eyes bored into him.

John grimaced and patted his own well cultivated, hidden chest fur unconsciously. "Because _all_ women like muscly hunks with smooth chests. _All_ women like flowers and fluffy bunnies and only talk about makeup and handbags."

Rodney glanced up with such a terribly vulnerable expression that John couldn't help but soften his incredulous glare.

"I thought it was the right thing to do."

"Well, you'd be surprised."

Rodney looked away as he said offhand, "It's nice not to get it caught in the zip."

John winced.

"But I think I've got a rash now. And my chest's cold."

John smiled at him. "It'll grow back. Just give it time."

Rodney nodded and sat on his hands while they watched the rest of the movie. He couldn't help twitching a little.


	2. Hope

_A/N - Two short fics, both written for the StarGateLand Community on LiveJournal._

**Hope**

Metallic whistling and hollow thumping sounds surrounded the team in a forest so dense it was impossible to see anything.

John baulked at a nearby tree and called out, "Throwing knives!"

Rodney whipped his scanner out. "We're surrounded!"

Ronon jumped back as a knife thwipped past his chest, then grunted as another embedded itself in his bicep. He pulled it out and fired his gun into a nearby bush.

"You missed," Rodney said.

Ronon growled.

"They're moving too fast."

Several men came towards them, leaping through the trees and darting around on the ground, cartwheeling, somersaulting and rolling. They called out as they came: "Invaders!" "Trespassers!" "Desecrators!"

"What is this?" Rodney asked. "The High School Gymnastics Team?"

One of the attackers ran past and smacked him in the face. He released an 'oomph' sound and staggered, dabbing at his split lip and tasting blood.

"Back to back!" Teyla suggested, and the team did so, all but Rodney shooting their guns into the thick leaves.

Ronon got a knife in the leg and went down. Teyla and John got knocked out by the dancing assailants who vanished into shadows after each strike.

Very soon Rodney was the last man standing. He held up his shaking hands. "Wh-what do you want?"

His reply was the sound of another knife swish and impact. The thump the knife made when it found a target had been far too close. Rodney looked down to find there was a handle jutting out of his stomach. He was only wearing a cloth vest, which was all too easily punctured by knives, bullets, and other terrifyingly numerous scientist killing objects.

Rodney hummed in surprise and then his knees folded. Lucky for him he fell backwards, unlucky for him he didn't pass out before the initial shock wore off and the pain started.

The natives had stopped dancing now and came to the vanquished team. They were clad in tight fitting black suits, masks covering their faces. They were skilled fighters, and would give the Wraith a good match, but even trusting to hope in aggression and fighting prowess would be no match against a culling beam.

One reached down, and pulled the knife out of Rodney, causing him to arch away from the ground with a scream, then his voice lowered into a series of keening whimpers.

Ronon fought them some more, but a blow to the head subdued him and Rodney didn't need any further help to surrender himself to darkness.

xxxxx

Rodney was pretty sure something vital inside him was perforated. It was getting harder to breathe as he continued to bleed into the bandages wrapped around his middle.

In the stone prison cell the team were trapped in, they all hoped for dial in and rescue, or to overpower the captors the next time they came.

Most of their thoughts were with Rodney, and the hope that he didn't die from his injuries or the infection where the throwing knife had stabbed him. Rodney was pale, feverish and weak already, so time was running out.

Without Rodney, Atlantis would be lost. Zelenka was good, but not equal to Rodney. Rodney was their only hope for survival, in combination with Zelenka and the rest of the scientists, they were unstoppable.

The ninja natives stood no chance against the rest of Rodney's team after what they had done to him. There was nowhere to run or dance off to in the enclosed space. Teyla's Wraith fuelled wrath, Ronon's Runner skills, and a furious John Sheppard would make short work of them when they returned.


	3. Pain

_A/N - And number two..._

**Pain**

Rodney knew he was no good with pain, his tolerance so low he complained about everything and anything troubling him. Even the tiniest thing caused so much grief that people soon stopped paying attention to his woes and became unsympathetic to his misery.

At least that's how it had been before Atlantis.

Now Rodney staggered over to a chair and held his arm across himself as he bled dark crimson onto his shirt. Dizziness enveloped him as he collapsed down and drew in a few shaky breaths.

Rodney was well and truly stuck. Knowing his injury could require infirmary treatment, but too afraid of what he might find if he checked it himself. The moment he'd slipped, he'd jammed his hand against his chest in shock, not having any time to see the laceration he'd sustained.

A niggling pain started. It didn't go away, but instead decided to make Rodney's day better by spreading like wildfire - a conflagration of agony without beginning or end.

Then an idea struck him, the only option in his impossible situation. "Sh-Sheppard!" he said into his radio. "I... I'm bleeding!"

"Where are you?"

"Labs."

Rodney winced and clutched his hand tighter to his chest. It felt like his finger was sliced open and hanging off, the all enveloping sting making his lips tremble.

John jogged into the room and over to Rodney, slowing down with a puzzled expression when he saw Rodney hunched over the desk with a grimace.

"Where are you hurt? Have you called Carson?"

"No. It's my hand."

"Let's have a look."

"N-no." Rodney held his hand firmly against himself, hoping the warmth of his chest would soothe the pain. "It's going to be really bad. I don't want to look."

John pursed his lips. "Alright. Turn away and stretch it out and I'll check it."

Rodney screwed up his face and slowly levered his hand away from himself and held it out with a grimace.

"Hmm."

"How bad is it?"

"It's pretty bad. Keep the pressure up and I'll be back in a sec with help."

Rodney lower lip trembled at the sharp bolt of pain going through his hand. He pressed it against his body with a barely suppressed groan. It was no wonder he was always sustaining serious injuries, as he was the only one doing any work around the labs in the evenings.

John returned and told Rodney to look away again and hold out his hand. Rodney gritted his teeth as a sticky object was wrapped around his finger and pressed down.

"There," John said, with a comforting pat on Rodney's back. "All better."

Rodney blinked his eyes open and slowly moved his head down to look at his damaged hand. It throbbed at him heartily and then the pain slowly, mercifully, began to diminish when he saw the thick plaster wrapped around his finger.

"You sure skinned it," John said, sounding impressed. "What were you doing?"

Rodney glanced down at the stuff on his desk. "Trust me to nearly amputate my finger using the only piece of paper on Atlantis."

John smiled at him, "Come on, it's getting late. Let's go get some takeaway from the mess hall, round up Teyla and Ronon and catch a movie before turning in."

Rodney gave his desk one last wistful glance and then his eyes drifted down to his finger, now sticking up like he was pointing at the ceiling.

"Okay," he said and left the lab with Sheppard to take his mind off his most recent trauma.

xxxxxxxxxxx

_A/N - Out of the 26 entrants, this won joint second place! My first attempt at a writing contest :)_


	4. Squashy Insides

_A/N - Why did Rodney stop wearing a tac vest in Season 5? Here's my answer (tag for S5 episode, 'Tracker' takes place between the first scene with Sheppard and meeting up with Ronon and Jennifer in the Gate Room)_

_Written for the 'What Should Have Been' episode tag challenge over at LiveJournal's Stargateland. It's gen, PG, about 450 words._

**xx Squashy Insides xx**

Rodney was facing Woolsey in his office, standing proud, all geared up and ready to go, complete with Kevlar plated, zipped up tac vest and P90 against his chest hanging from the clip inside.

Woolsey eyed the scientist and considered him for a moment before he sighed and said, "It has been decided by the IOA that civilians going offworld on non-military missions to known friendly planets no longer need to wear the armoured tac vests."

Rodney visibly deflated, but then panic set in. "But what about all my stuff? Power bars, epi-pen..." he counted off on his fingers, "...bandages, scanner, reloads?" His eyes widened further. "What about a gun? I _am_ allowed to take a weapon, right? Or should I just invest in a bullseye jacket and go and sit at the end of the local target range?"

Woolsey's eyebrows rose higher, but he merely said, "You will be allowed to take a sidearm, along with another small bag. You also have pockets, which should be more than sufficient."

"And Sheppard's okay with this?"

Woolsey nodded, "It took some convincing, but he said it's fine. We do not wish to convey a message that we mistrust those we visit by going to their worlds dressed as though we mean to start a war. Also, it makes civilians appear as though they are military and that they should be targeted equally."

Rodney gulped and nodded his agreement before leaving. He made his way to the training room where he knew John and Teyla were practising their sparring. It wasn't as though Rodney was allowed to wear the Kevlar vests very often, but he didn't like the idea of going offworld with no protection whatsoever for his insides from the bullets and arrows and other nasty things out there that tended to find him. Insides that always felt extremely squashy and vulnerable when a gun was pointing at him.

But the more he thought about it, the more he remembered how the tac vest had never really helped him anyway. That accursed arrow had gone in his unprotected backside, and Sheppard's bullet had hit him after he'd taken the vest off. He hadn't been wearing one when he'd concussed himself in the jumper that had crashed in the ocean, not that it would've saved him from that injury.

Sure, the thing was useful for storing stuff, but ultimately if someone really was _that_ intent on killing him, then he would die whether he was wearing it or not.

He swallowed again and changed his mind about talking to Sheppard as he instead went to the armoury to drop off the vest before meeting Jennifer in the gate room.


	5. Plumbing

_A/N - written for **Stargateland**'s inter-office memo challenge on LiveJournal. FFN doesn't like email coding... pretend the words are symbols_

To: **all **at **lantis **dot **peg**  
From: **rodney **dot **mckay **at **lantis **dot **peg**

Subject: PLUMBING

I am not a plumber.

Do not call me about your leaky taps or blocked toilets or the strange stain on the ceiling above your bed. That's what the maintenance channel is for.

On that note, for the one toilet I have unblocked this week (thank you, Colonel) do not overlook the sensor to the side and how it can be depressed after you have finished. Especially those who only so much as have to think to flush. Because we're so short of water on this vast ocean.

Unless you too wish to spend all afternoon in the infirmary with sadistic nurses sewing your fingers back on, I suggest you get rid of whatever you get rid of. Otherwise it'll be you with your hand stuck in the U-bend when there's important work to be done.

I won't be able to eat for a week.

Warm Regards  
Dr Rodney McKay PhD PhD

PS: Radek, when you get this, we're running low on coffee again.


	6. Dirt and Tears

_For a single word prompting thing I'm doing (see my LiveJournal - no account required to request a fic!)_  
_x-varda-x dot livejournal dot com slash 60939 dot html_

_Dirt for **Somehowunbroken**_  
_Tears for **Elfycat**_

**Dirt**

The grenade explosion hadn't even been that close, but Rodney, in his wisdom, had run _towards_ it, despite John's shout.

Now he lay face down in the mud, his whole body one big throbbing ache and his ears ringing mercilessly.

His sight dimmed, like the sun had decided to set early, even though he knew it was still high in the sky. Then he realised that he wasn't breathing. A cough and a splutter kick started his protesting diaphragm to stop striking and back to work again. He blew out across the ground where his nose was pressed to the muck and the smaller particles lying on the ground with him skittered away from his warm breath.

Then his mind began to work again and to his scientific mind, it wasn't just dirt or mud he was lying on, but constituent elements that were also crawling with bacteria and microbes.

It wasn't therefore Sheppard's tugging that got him back on his feet, or the Wraith that had only been slowed by the grenade explosion, but his flinching to get away from the horrible diseases the earth he was inhaling was giving to him.

He staggered upright, wincing at his bruises.

"You alright, McKay?"

He coughed again. "Not really, but I'm sure the incurable ailment caused by sucking in alien dirt will have an incubation time longer than the time that it takes for the Wraith to kill us."

John gave him a half smirk and pulled his arm as they continued to run towards the gate where Teyla and Ronon were already waiting for them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**(Bored to) Tears**

Despite popular opinion, being the Chief Scientist and part of the primary recon team on Atlantis was not all fun, excitement and life threatening stress all the time.

Sometimes there was monotony: cataloguing artefacts, decoding or writing never ending lines of code (hello, Replicators).

So here Rodney was, tablet in hand, standing in the middle of a large room they had found on Atlantis. Shelves lined the walls and on those shelves there were hundreds, if not thousands of small Ancient doodads and knick-knacks. It had been exciting at first - personal shields or cloaks! But after a week, it was not so much any more.

Rodney and his fellow scientists had found that most of the objects were useless toys and trinkets and as Rodney carefully tested and catalogued each one, his heart, once high, now fell.

Was it possible to die of boredom? He asked himself as he turned a small glowing ball over in his hand.

His eyes prickled with tiredness and he blinked a few times to clear them. The glow got brighter and a small high-pitched whine began to emanate from the latest object.

He hummed in surprise. He had scanned it already and deemed it safe... or had he? His mind froze at the same time as his tired body when he realised in fear that maybe he hadn't scanned this one before picking it up. He quickly put it back down on the shelf, hoping that if it was no longer in contact with his gene activating touch, it would shut off, but he was wrong and the whine increased.

He backed away nervously. His minions had already left for the day, so he was alone.

Just then, the whine stopped, but the light flared and there was a loud bang. Rodney stumbled blindly and shut his eyes tightly where they watered. His sight gradually returned and he laughed shakily as he picked up his tablet computer from where he'd dropped it to instinctively duck and cover.

He added a new entry and ran a quick scan for posterity before writing:  
**Ancient Stun Grenade** - possible military use. Refer to Lt. Col. Sheppard and test recharge capability.

He called it a night then, hoping his attention span would be better the next morning when the same work began again.


	7. Void and Snow

**Void**, PG13, ~190 words (short, somewhat dark!fic for **stella_pegasi**)

Rodney lay on a cold, hard floor in a pitch black cell. He suffered fear at first - what was in there with him? _Who_ was in there with him?

Darkness pressed in all around and his claustrophobia crushed his chest in the first signs of a pending panic attack.

The whisper of cloth.

A sharp intake of breath. Goosebumps on naked skin.

The feel of a knife, circling, tracing, plunging into quivering pale flesh. Drops of blood.

A terrified whimper.

But nothing. All in Rodney's imagination. He scuttled back like a crab until he hit a wall. He felt for the edges and found four ninety degree corners with no imperfections in between. There was no door. He was trapped.

Rodney's paranoid mind played tricks on him and he imagined horrific things closing in all around from the absolute black all around. He pressed his back against the wall, ignoring the chill spreading through him into his very bones. He drew his knees up and rocked, mumbling incoherently.

These four walls in the dark. Solid, cold, damp stone walls. Nothing more.

And that was torture enough itself.

xxxxxxxxxx

**Snow**, PG13, ~960 words (Written for **clwilson2006) **Set in S4, before Be All My Sins Remember'd.

The first winter on the new planet where Atlantis now resided was cold.

Where Lantea had been a steady temperature all year round (the Ancients placing the city in order to achieve this) the new residents had not yet figured out the whole ecosystem or seasonal patterns of this new one. More pressing matters such as Wraith wanting to _eat_ everyone and Replicators wanting to _kill_ everyone had fully occupied their time.

It became a more urgent issue when the first flakes of snow fell in the night. Heating was now more of a power drain than the power needed to move the city to a warmer clime.

A place was decided, but before Sheppard once again took the chair and fired up his engines, John insisted Rodney join him, Ronon and Teyla on the South Pier.

The snow was several inches deep by now and treacherously slippery where feet had already trampled it down.

Rodney just had time to glimpse an impressively large and lifelike snowman when there was an impact to the side of his head. He cried out in shock and grabbed his rapidly chilling face as he spun around. There was only water there and John's smirking face a short distance away.

Rodney seethed and said, "Come and pilot the city instead of throwing snowballs, Sheppard."

John was already crouching down gathering more snow for another attack.

Rodney scowled and turned to the snowman builders - Ronon and Teyla were completing it and Ronon spoke proudly, "Sheppard said great warriors on Earth make men from snow."

Teyla continued, "And that a larger and more lifelike snowman is a sign of a great and mighty warrior."

Rodney looked back to John incredulously and John shrugged at him before he lobbed another missile at Rodney. It hit him in the parka-coated chest this time and he flinched backwards from the blow.

Rodney sighed heavily as his feet slipped a little. "Well, I've got _real_ work to do and when you stop playing childish games we can get out of here."

He stalked away, another of John's snowballs hitting him between the shoulder blades as a goodbye accompanied by a shout of, "Spoil sport!"

"Reminds me of college..." Rodney muttered darkly.

As he reached the door back into the warmth and safety of the floors which his feet actually gripped, John threw his last snowball. Rodney was too far away for John's aim to remain true and instead it slammed into the large icicle directly above him, causing it to snap off and fall.

Had Rodney kept walking it would've missed him, but John's startled shout made him draw up and stop. Therefore the deadly shard stabbed through parka, jacket and shirt and plunged deeply into his right shoulder.

Rodney fell to his knees from the impact. He felt his collar bone snap and his arm went limp. Ice quickly melted in his hot blood and turned the cold to pain pain pain.

He fell onto his back and shut his eyes, trying not to whimper but not being very successful.

The snow around him quickly went pink with gore. "Don't eat yellow snow," sprang into Rodney's shocked mind. But red...?

Hands held Rodney and words washed over him, but all that he heard was John saying sorry over and over.

He felt himself being lifted and moved back inside. His parka was cut away and he begrudged the loss. He was fond of that coat... Jeannie had given it to him.

"Do not worry," Teyla said. "She will send another one."

Huh, Rodney didn't realise he'd said that out loud.

There was a small sting of a needle and painkilling warmth spread through him. Bandages that quickly stained red were wrapped around his shoulder and his eyelids drooped in such heaviness he could no longer keep them open, so he didn't.

xxxxx

Rodney sat in the Control Room, his arm in a sling and his face tight with pain.

"Ow!" Rodney said as he yet again forgot that he couldn't use his right arm.

Radek was overseeing the moving of the city and Rodney was observing and commentating while John sat in the control chair several floors below.

"Ow," Rodney said again as he sat down at a computer and tapped one handedly.

"You are supposed to be resting," Radek said.

"I need to be here."

Radek shook his head and carried on co-ordinating the team of fully able bodied personnel assisting him.

xxxxx

Rodney caught up with Sheppard in the mess hall later. The snow was already melting and well on the way to clearing from the piers and high towers of the city in the warmer climate.

They were sitting down at a table with their lunch trays in front of them. John said, "Sorry about the arm, Rodney. Are we good?"

Rodney tried to fold his arms, but hissed. He then attempted a shrug, but that failed too.

John watched the whole thing with his face torn between amusement and sympathy. He said, "I'll get you a new coat. Jeannie might think it's a bit weird if you tell her what happened and ask her for one."

"Can you also get me a new collar bone and muscle? Damn thing nearly pierced my lung it went so deep!"

Sheppard looked guilty, "I said I was sorry. Anyway, it looks like you're doing a good job on replacing those parts on your own."

Rodney grimaced back at him. "We're good, Sheppard. We always will be." His face brightened when he spotted a chocolate muffin in John's hand - the last one swiped from the lunch table before Rodney had arrived.

John handed it to him and his guilty look turned into a small smile at Rodney's clear delight.


End file.
